


jinkies!

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ghouls, M/M, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3978757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack begins to settle into solving crimes after the Nogitsune is gone and things have calmed. There’s always something fishy to discover, but nothing that is really scary enough to be a direct threat on their lives. Stiles wonders when they’d become something akin to the Mystery Gang as he runs through the ugly wallpapered hallways to try and escape a ghoul.</p><p>Stiles and Derek get stuck in an elevator after a fight and, well, have to work it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jinkies!

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill at my tumblr, obriensnipples! Come check me out, I don't always post my stuff here due to titles and such.

The pack begins to settle into solving crimes after the Nogitsune is gone and things have calmed. There’s always something fishy to discover, but nothing that is really scary enough to be a direct threat on their lives. Stiles wonders when they’d become something akin to the Mystery Gang as he runs through the ugly wallpapered hallways to try and escape a ghoul.

 

His plan had been so much better.

 

The hotel is old and has been abandoned for many years and it’s the perfect place for the ghoul to store his _meals._ The kitchen when Stiles opens the door, the ghoul just around the corner, smells of rotting flesh permeating his senses. The stitch in Stiles’s side from running for so long lurches. There are body parts hanging from meat hooks and some aren’t human but there are _distinctive_ parts that _are_ \-- and he’ll never get that sight out of his head.

 

But then he hears the lilting moans of the confused ghoul drifting through the hall and he takes the opportunity, sprinting into the room with his nose covered and his breath held. But when he closes the door he realizes his mistake: there’s no back door or any other way out. If he leaves, he threatens to be seen by the ghoul and it was hard enough avoiding him in the first place.

 

The pack doesn’t know where he is either and Scott is the one who has the knife dipped in goat’s blood to stop the ghoul so Stiles calls out for one of them. “ _Scott,_ ” Stiles yells, sliding across a tiny rug on the tile and catching sight of a dumbwaiter in the corner of the kitchen. He races over to it and slides the hatch open. There are miraculously no body parts in there, but it doesn’t look very safe either. Nothing is up to code in this place, he thinks.

 

He jumps into the relatively large dumbwaiter (really it’s big enough to hold at least two people) and it creaks dangerously under his weight but he resiliently closes the door. Resisting the urge to sneeze from all of the dust, he crosses his legs and closes his eyes so the complete dark doesn’t hurt his head. He’s there for at least a few minutes and it’s a bit agonizing being bent like this but he’ll deal, he supposes.

 

Beyond the heavy metal of the door, Stiles’s breath hitches when he registers the click of the door opening in the kitchen.

 

“Stiles?” Stiles breaths out and hesitantly opens the hatch again and Derek is standing at the doorway looking at him with his arms splayed out wide and his nose scrunched in obvious disgust at the smell of flesh.

 

“Yes?” he asks.

 

Derek rolls his eyes, looking from side to side. He advances slowly inside. “The ghoul--” he begins to say.

 

“Is right behind you,” Stiles says in shock as the ghoul appears in the hallway, face morphed in fury, “ _Derek--”_

 

Derek barely has time to twist his head before he’s thrown back into the expansive meat counter in the middle of the room and Stiles is too scared to close the door back. The ghoul looks pissed underneath his white cloak of death and grabs the lapels of Derek’s jacket just to toss him against, this time right next to a jar of floating eyeballs, and Derek’s eyes shut for a moment.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles’s voice is high pitched as the ghoul approaches him now, a low moaning going off in his throat. “Please don’t eat me, I don’t eat enough salt, I probably taste bland anyways. You have plenty of eyeballs over there stored that you could eat, you know. Yum,” he continues, trying to grin but it probably still looks very disgusted.

 

The ghoul doesn’t seem to mind Stiles’s harsh-to-the-palate taste because he dissipates and then reappears right in front of Stiles, teeth bared. Stiles, in all of his shock, and thanks to his cat-like reflexes, punches the ghoul right in the face.

 

To his surprise, the ghoul staggers back, hand catching on one of the legs hanging from the ceiling (seriously, Stiles is going to be sick looking at all of these body parts. It’s more anatomy than he can handle) and straightens himself up. He/she/whatever growls in fury, but Derek is up now, just shaking himself conscious and he makes a frantic grab at the ghoul to try and stop it from advancing.

 

But then the ghoul does its little disappearing act again. Because they’re so close to where Stiles is still crouched down, Derek, reeling from the momentum, topples face-first into the dumbwaiter, right on top of Stiles. Stiles does his best to catch him and manages to get one arm around him in the restricted space but his other gets smashed against his chest. He opens his eyes and Derek’s are open in shock, staring back at him.

 

“Scooby Doo, where are you?” Stiles huffs. “Right here,” he answers himself, looking at Derek in disappointment.

 

There’s a dangerous creaking noise as the dumbwaiter sways in the little passage and then all at once, the ghoul roars in fury as they begin to fall. They only go a few feet, in between floors apparently, but Stiles’s yell of shock is echoing as he tries to curl up to brace for impact. His legs don’t go far, one managing to kick Derek in the abdomen. Derek lets out a little huff of pain, but Stiles can’t stop trying to move.

 

“Stiles,” Derek says.

 

“God, these things are so small.” Stiles hooks one leg in towards his abdomen then stretches it out and presses it against the wall so he knee is against his chest. “Do you have to work out so much? I’m about to be suffocated by your enormous biceps. And I’m not really a claustrophobic guy, you know? But this is calling it a little close, this is a very very small space.”

 

“Hey,” Derek says, looking into his eyes in the dark. “Breathe.” Stiles does try to breathe, but the problem is, he feels like he’s breathing _too much_. He doesn’t really want to listen to Derek right then either. Nonetheless, because he values his life sometimes and doesn’t want to die in a little hole, he follows Derek’s breathing techniques and taps a rhythm along Derek’s thigh with his free hand. Derek pulls out his phone from his back pocket and texts Scott between their chests and then turns the flashlight so they can see each other.

 

“Scott is cornering the ghoul with Isaac and Erica. We just have to wait.” He sighs, breath tracking across Stiles’s face gently. Stiles turns his head and adjusts his butt, the dumbwaiter creaking threateningly.

 

“If we fall, you need to shield me with your body,” Stiles orders, pursing his lips.

 

“We’re not going to fall,” Derek says, sounding too confident. That’s usually how people sound before they fall, is all Stiles thinks. “Scott is going to get rid of the ghoul and then will come and pull us out of here.”

 

Stiles feels like his nose is beginning to itch. Now that it’s on his mind, it turns into a full fledged torturous tickle and his hand is still stuck behind Derek’s ass so he can’t itch it.

 

“I’m still mad at you,” Stiles says, but at the same time and nuzzles his face from side to side across Derek’s shoulder to ease the itch.

 

“Stiles, stop moving so much,” Derek growls. He sounds as mad as Stiles feels

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Stiles is beginning to lose feeling in his one arm and whines in frustration. Derek, seeming to understand, scoots closer to give Stiles more room. This way, Stiles can put his leg down and curl it around Derek’s waist, almost sitting in his lap.

 

It puts them a little more closer than Stiles wishes to be with him in that moment, but it helps him stop freaking out as much and his heartbeat slows down a little. “You always seem to tell me what to do.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek begins, voice low, like Stiles is a child and doesn’t understand. Stiles bristles at that tone, he _hates_ that tone.

 

“Don’t. You know you shut my plan down _again.”_

 

 _“_ We took a vote--”

 

“Let me finish,” Stiles says, voice cutting like steel. “I suggested that I go in and be bait with the knife, not be left alone in the car. They prefer _human flesh,_ so obviously it came after me despite all of you guys lurking in his creepy lair. But you never listen to me whenever I suggest things and it’s only me that you do that to. Do you just not listen to me on purpose? It feels that way sometimes and I can’t stand that. You’re _supposed_ to listen to me, and it’s like talking to a fucking wall sometimes, and it’s not okay. This time wasn’t really your fault as much. I’m sorry; I’m yelling because of tight spaces but still. I like danger as much as the next guy, but sometimes we can prevent that sort of thing, which is way cooler than having to punch a ghoul in the face so I won’t die.”

 

Derek’s mouth has opened the slightest, and Stiles fades off. It’s hard to look anywhere but at Derek’s face, though. He feels like he’s somehow used up most of the oxygen they’re provided in that little space, but he’s probably just panicking again.

 

“I didn’t,” Derek starts. It makes Stiles a little angry because he thinks that’s his final statement, but then Derek licks his lips and starts again. “I’m sorry.”

 

Stiles glares at the screws in the corner of the box and Derek makes him meet his eyes with a nudge of his thumb under Stiles’s chin. “Stiles.”

 

“That’s me,” Stiles says, smiling sardonically. “The one and only.”

 

“You are infuriating,” Derek begins. Stiles’s face heats up and he tries his best to lean his head away with the little space he has; he only moves an inch before his head hits the wall. “It’s always. It’s always easy to tell myself you’re just being contrary, sometimes, because that’s how you were.”

 

“I’m _not,_ though. You’re just as stubborn-headed as you were back then.”

 

“Probably,” Derek admits with a small grin. “I don’t mean to make you think that your opinion doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

 

“It’s not always that,” Stiles interrupts. “I’m not trying to blame you for this.” Derek offers him a wry smile.  
  


“I’m trying to learn though,” he tells Stiles, brutally honest and quiet. “You need help less than others sometimes.”

 

Stiles runs a finger along Derek’s stubbled jaw line. He finds that his heartbeat is nearly back to normal now.  “I appreciate you being brave and trying to stop the ghoul from killing me though. Because contrary to popular belief, I am indeed a very squishy human in this pack of monsters and I do not heal as fast when bitten. You don’t need to protect me from decisions on the front lines, though.”

 

“Okay,” Derek tells him, eyes blinking once and he nods in affirmation like he understands all of Stiles’s rambles. Stiles figures he’s probably forgiven; he’s done much better at being understanding and Stiles’s ultimatums have almost reduced to nothing lately.

 

“Also I’m sorry. I know you are trying your best and you are good at decisions. Sometimes you don’t need me to make them for you.”

 

“I know you will anyways, and that’s okay. I’ll listen more,” Derek offers.

 

Stiles grins, bumping their foreheads together. “I don’t like arguing. It seems counterproductive when we’re stuck in a hole together. We could be preserving oxygen.”

 

“How else would we pass the time?” Derek asks, deadpan. He seems pretty happy at the turn of events though and then they’re on even ground again.

 

“Oh my god,” Stiles says suddenly, looking up. “How long have we been in here? Deep conversations seem to pass the time, don’t they? I feel years older.”

 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek grumbles. Stiles stares at his mouth.

 

“Hey,” Stiles says. “ _Here’s_ a way to pass the time,” he adds, and then kisses Derek, his hand coming up to hook around his thick neck. Derek makes a satisfied chuffing noise against Stiles’s neck after they separate and his beard scratches at his skin. Stiles arches his head back all he can and suppresses a shiver.  “No funny business right now, unfortunately. I don’t want the cord to break and pull us to our deaths. Casa de Stilinski is closed for the day, no Stilinski pancake specials on order.”

 

He does keep kissing Derek though, even though Derek only sighs in exasperation at him.

 

Scott does eventually get them out. Stiles does a dramatic Frankenstein impression as he crawls out of the depths of the dumbwaiter hole (“I’m alive, I’m _alive”)_ and holds down a hand to help an unamused looking Derek out of the hole (he is totally amused).

 

Stiles laughs at him because he, Erica, and Isaac are all covered in blood from head to toe. Apparently ghouls explode when they get stabbed, Stiles realizes. Stiles tells Scott he has to take a few thousand showers before he can get into Stiles’s Jeep and Erica laughs easily, the tension broken.  

 

Scott just pokes at his stubble burn and says “Seriously?” as Stiles shrugs with an easy smile. Derek saunters up besides him and Stiles bumps their shoulders, skipping over ghoul guts and grabbing onto Derek’s hand in his pocket.

 


End file.
